


the kind of shivering wreck that I adore

by Nakimochiku



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Sibling Incest, Sister Complex, fem!Xander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 04:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6737998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can't know about about this thing crawling beneath his skin. She can't know what a mess he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the kind of shivering wreck that I adore

**Author's Note:**

> there are a lot of shameful tags in this fic. For Jay, who couldn't find nearly enough fic to satisfy a very kinky hunger.

He's a mess. The reasons why he’s a mess shift day to day, hour to hour, but the fact itself is immutable. He wants Corrin to appreciate him, he wants Camilla to notice him, he want Xandria to acknowledge him. It swirls in his belly, sticks in the back of his throat, rests on his skin so he imagines it's obvious to anyone who looks. He’s a mess.

He imagines Xandria in the sunlight, turning her hair almost russet, gleaming off her scarlet armour the colour of old blood. He imagines the tight tilt of her reserved smile.

He imagines her on him, naked, pressing him where she wants him, twisting her fingers in his hair, using his mouth like a toy, riding him until she's satisfied, telling him “yes, you're good little brother, just the way I want you”--

He’s a mess.

*

Xandria was bred to be perfect. She’s tall, strong, cool and level headed. She's beautiful. Leo’s eyes follow her when she passes, fix on her in ways they shouldn't. Her fingers (long and delicate, wrapped around his cock the way they wrap around the hilt of a sword, holding him still so she can use him--), her lips (pulling into a smirk, pink and kiss swollen, pressed to his throat before she bites), her hips (where he wouldn't be able to hold her, where he would dream of scratching while he lets her take what she wants of him--).

He suffers. He's a mess.

*

“Leo, do you have a moment, I wish to speak with you about the last war meeting?”

For a second, Leo panics. Does Xandria know? Did she see? Can she guess at the thing that roils beneath his skin. Will she drag it out to lay in the open air, a slimy pathetic parasite infection him.

“You raised your hand but lowered it without saying anything and--”

How does he explain that even during the meeting, he was lulled by the pitch and cadence of her voice, low hard and mellow, so that he hears her saying filthy things (“that's it, use your tongue, lemme fuck your mouth”), or sweet things (“good boy, you're so good for me, so precious”)? He can't focus.

He needs to focus now.

He snaps at her, but he doesn't mean it. He tries not to feel guilty for the way her face drops like he’s struck her, eyes going wide with a shard of pain twisting her perfect lips into a hard line. He fails at not feelings guilty.

“I'm sorry, sister. It's my fault, as ever.” It is, but that's not really what he's apologizing for.

She can't know, she can't know, she can’t know, he must keep her from being able to guess.

“I will make you proud next time.”

He will crush this parasite beneath his heel, watch it splatter against stone. He won't let Xandria know what lays beneath his skin, settling on it, wriggling beneath the surface.

*

(In his mind) She comes to him naked, stands at the end of the bed imperiously, unashamed, her chin tipped back, the future queen. He waits where she's put him, kneeling before her like the slave he is, already hard, teeth clenched so he doesn't call for her, fingers tight on his knees so he doesn't reach to touch her.

He doesn't dare be anything short of perfect.

(He bites into his lip and takes his cock in hand, strokes slowly, tries not to whisper her name.)

She's so close he can smell her, his mouth waters, and when she combs her fingers through his hair and tugs he lets out a helpless moan. “What do you want me to do to you?” she asks, scratching her nails along his scalp so he purrs.

“Anything.” he answers, and looking at her as pleadingly as he can manage. “You can do anything you want.”

She laughs indulgently at him, he flushes with shame at the sound of it, even while his cock jumps. “So eager.” her fingers tighten in his hair, jerking his head back. “Don't make promises you can't keep, Leo.”

How does he explain that it gives him pleasure being whatever she wants, he'd debase himself for her, he's nothing before her, left twisted in the heat of his own want for her.

(Imagining this is pathetic, he’s pathetic. He can’t stop, so he keeps going, hips jerking up into his fist.)

“Open your mouth now.” she says, moving just a little closer so the apex between her muscled thighs is just before his nose. He does, welcomes the taste of her on his tongue, licking into her soft wet folds and humming his pleasure. She moans softly, tilting his head where she wants him by the hair, fingers scratching just short of painful when his mouth closes around the tight nub of her clit. “That's it, little brother.”

His face grows increasingly wet, smeared with her slick and his saliva as she rides his face. Her thighs tremble, her fingers near wrench as his hair, then shes coming, panting harshly through her lips, her entire body tight and trembling. He licks her through it, likes the taste of her in his mouth. “Good boy,” she moans when she comes back to her self, loosening on muscle at a time. “Good boy, now bend over.”

She directs him over the edge of the bed, upper body spread over the sheets, floor cool against his toes, bent in supplication and waiting for her, swollen cock pressed to the side of the mattress. “What do you think I should do to you?” Xandria asks, running her nails teasingly over his spine.

“You could spank me.” Leo offers, and tries not to sound too eager. He hikes his hips up a little, as though to urge her on. He wants her hands on him, he wants her to make him ache, he near squirms out of his skin longing for it.

“Spank you?” Xandria repeats with a laugh in her voice. “Why should I spank you when you've been so good for me?” her palms are warm against the curve of his ass, Leo purrs and shifts under her touch. He feels liquid and unreal. “What else?”

“Hm?”

“Think of something else for me to do to you.” her hands are distracting, down over his shoulders, smoothing up his sides, down again over his thighs, up again to his ass. “Come now, little brother, there must be something.”

“You can finger me open.” Leo blurts. Xandria’s hands go still. For a second he's terrified but he ploughs on (he's a sinner, this is a fantasy, it doesn't matter what he says--), “You could fuck me, if you wanted, make me your bitch, make me beg for you--”

“Leo.” (He imagines) Xandria’s voice is a little raspy. “You're precious.”

She does just as he says. She’s slow about it. She rests one hand at the shallow dip of his spine and rubs her thumb there, while her fingers work almost idly around his hole, slicked with oil, teasing around and around the rim, just pushing in. He tenses and relaxes in turns, waiting for the breach of her fingers inside him. (He imagines) she makes him ask for it.

(He’s pathetic, he teases his own fingers at the delicate skin behind his scrotum, presses there and wishes--)

He asks shamelessly. “Please. Sister, I'm begging you--”

“Begging me?” Xandria repeats. He thinks he hears a smile in her voice, confident and beatific. She presses just the tip of her finger in and Leo sighs. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

He’d promise her the world if she just got her fingers in him. But then they are, one long slender finger moving to two, working in and out, circling and stretching him and fraying him. Leo moans aloud (He bites his pillow on a sob) demands “more, sister more!” In a reedy voice he barely recognizes. He keens and writhes and bucks his hips back into the press and stretch of her. She gives it to him, opens him with three fingers, fucking into him. The oil makes filthy wet noises around her fingers and his clenching hole, she presses against his back, breast soft and heavy, making noises of wonder.

“You’re so precious, little brother. Look at you take it. You’re so good for me--”

“Next time you can fuck me if you want.” He babbles. She moans her assent. “You can get a cock and fuck me with it, make me open for you, make me ride you--”

(He’s filthy)

“You gonna come? Right here all over the floor while I fuck you with my fingers?”

(He’s pathetic)

“Gonna --” he pants “gonna-- please please i--”

(He’s--)

“I'm a mess.” he cries.

“Yes, you're a mess.” Xandria agrees, breathless and laughing “but you're my mess.”

He loses it then. He tenses beneath her, feels her fingers twist and press deep, and he comes stuttering her name and her praises.

(He spills over his fingers, buries his face into his pillow, and weeps.)

 

*

“Leo, may I have a moment of your time?” Her voice is a bell and a battle cry at once. “I want you to know I am grateful you finally told me how you feel.” He’s told her nothing. “I have something to tell you as well.”

The conversation goes well. She will never know, she will never know, she will never know.

He’s a mess. 


End file.
